Complicated
by thewriter1713
Summary: My husband is… complicated. He is an anomaly I am sure I will never quite understand. I knew that when we joined in holy matrimony, I married a very multifaceted man. Make no mistake, I love him with every life sustaining breath I take, but I can't help but shake my head in mild irritation some days. Rated M for safety.
1. Complicated

_Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed 3 or any of its characters._

**A:N/ Dear God, I'm not sure what I was thinking when writing this but it came out completely different from what I originally had in mind. Once again, let me know what you think it the comments and favorite this story if you like it too.**

**See below for more author's notes.**

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___July 3, 1783_

_M__y husband is… complicated. He is an anomaly I am sure I will never quite understand. He is stoic, mild-mannered, but prone to vicious bursts of rage and aggression that should and probably would frighten me if I were unaware that he would never harm me. A kind heart lies beneath a warrior's exterior, capable of such brutal acts of violence yet compassionate enough to allow strangers to reside on his homestead, to provide and care for these people as if they were his own kinship. His body is fully developed, that of a grown man, but his mind resembles the thoughts and ideas of a child, naïve and ignorant to the ways of the world, his solutions very straightforward and honest to issues of great complexity, no lies to sweeten his terse answers. A man of few words, I'm fortunate to pry more than a simply reply from him, yet this area of his personality confounds me the most._

_Excerpt from the diary of Aveline de Grandpre_

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**_Davenport Manor_**

**_May 2, 1779_**

I knew that when we joined in holy matrimony, I married a very multifaceted man. Make no mistake, I love him with every life sustaining breath I take, but I can't help but shake my head in mild irritation some days. He's as stubborn as a mule, pig-headed and adamant in his beliefs, unwilling to allow another opinion alter his convictions. For instance, we were conversing about my current situation the other day, sitting outside on the balcony of the Davenport manor against the brick wall as I rested beside my husband, his manner dark and menacing as the conversation transformed into an argument the more he refused my wishes. I am with child now, six months into gestation, and of course much too far into my pregnancy to fulfill my duty to the Brotherhood. In his hysterics, he blamed himself for my incapacitation, cursing himself for impregnating me with his seed. In the beginning, he was overjoyed at the news, his eyes widening comically in stunned shock before he swept me off my feet, a twinkle in his eyes as he hooted and hollered in exhilaration that he was to be a father. Now, he viewed the little babe growing within me as a nuisance, an abomination. This was the whole topic of our disagreement. In a way, he wasn't entirely incorrect in regards to the production of the baby, but we were brothers in arms and companions for life, equally sharing the responsibility for our actions.

"Mon amour, please. Try to see reason. It isn't your fault that I cannot accompany you on this mission. It's much too dangerous for me and the baby." Frankly, I didn't approve of him going in the first place, but that was different affair. He pressed his lips grimly into an unhappy frown, his obstinacy unmoved, and I swore under my breath. Stubborn man!

"This is _precisely_ the reason why I wished not to even _touch_ a woman. Do you _honestly_ expect me to believe that I had no part in creating this child? I may not know everything, but you cannot…_cannot_ tell me that you conceived any other way than lying with me!" A lesser woman would have cowered as the level of his tone rose, but I held my ground unrelenting, refusing to admit defeat so easily. Two could play this game.

"Connor, ma chère. I have no regrets. This child is a blessing, not a curse. He or she will bring joy and happiness into our lives. It shares a piece of us, its blood a mixture of our own. Are you not the least bit pleased in its conception?" I reached over to grasp his large calloused hands with my smaller ones, and he glanced inquisitively at the contact, his countenance softening a fraction before it hardened with anger once more. He violently tugged me into his lap, and I sprawled out over the wide expanse of his torso, barely catching myself before I toppled onto my rounded belly. He growled low in his throat as he caught my hips in his palms and he pulled me firmly on his lap, his lips by my ear as he whispered softly, deadly, his warm breath sending shivers racing down my spine.

"Listen, and listen very closely. You are a vexing, vain woman who hardly heeds instruction and rarely follows orders." I began struggling against his hold, indignant and my pride wounded, but his grip tightened and I whimpered at its bruising intensity. "I am not _finished_. I cannot count to number of times I have had to rescue you and there are a few instances where both of us nearly _died_ thanks to you." That was enough, _mon point de rupture_. I absolutely refused to speak to him when he was in one of his black moods. I swatted at him with tiny fists, beating at his chest in hurt frustration, commanding that he release me. "Let me go. I will not talk to you when say such cruel words to me. Let me go _now_!" I presumed it was the changes from carrying a child for his cutting words offended much more than they normally did, my disposition and emotions swinging high and low like a pendulum. Tears clouded my vision and I let out an enraged cry as he removed his roughened hands from my waist to catch my mine own continuing to strike him, pinning them at my sides. "_Get your hands off me!_ _Release me now, Connor!_" I squirmed and wriggled as much as possible, but it was of no worth. He was considerably stronger than I was. "Yet…I have never felt such a connection to a woman as I do you. After the death of my mother, I…I thought I would never find someone who cared for me as she did. You and I share an uncommon bond. It is what makes us special. I _love_ you, Aveline. I truly do. If anything happened to you, I do not…I cannot lose you."

He dropped his intense gaze from mine own, and my heart melted even further, his harsh words of earlier forgotten. His eyes remained downcast, ill at ease and ashamed. He was scared. A little child lost and frightened, without any guidance. I couldn't fault his uncertainties. Many women before me had died in the midst of childbirth, either their bodies too weak for the enormous strain or unforeseen complications during the delivery. This was our first child and neither one of us understood exactly what childbearing entailed. Nonetheless, he was his own worst enemy, envisioning the gravest scenarios in his mind, worrying himself with exaggerated horrors conjured by his imagination. But his fears were out of love. I slipped out of his grasp and cupped his face gently, lifting his eyes to meet my own, and I smiled warmly. "I am a strong woman. You out of all people should know that." I kissed the tops of his eyelids tenderly, his exhale soft against my chin as he relaxed beneath my ginger ministrations. "I love you, with all my heart. No matter what happens, always remember that, amour." His visage softened yet again, his appearance more youth once the frown lines disappeared, but his manner stayed reflective, pensive, his obsidian orbs reflecting his soul's inner turmoil.

"Connor?" He pressed his lips firmly against mine with a quickness that caught me off-guard, groaning faintly as his arms enclosed around me, hauling me closer to him, and I succumbed with a small whimper. _Thank God!_

He ran his tongue against the seam of my lips and I parted them, allowing him entrance to the inner recesses of my mouth, moaning against his flesh as his tongue flicked and curved against mine. His movements were sensual, suggestive, dominating, primal. I glimpsed in into his eyes, darkened by hungry desire, and I discerned the wolf within him, demanding that I belonged solely to him, that he make me his once more. His lips left to kiss a hot trail down my dark skin, his teeth nipping lightly at the underside of my jaw and graceful column of my neck while his tongue twirled, removing any sting from the bites. I titled my head to the side, granting him more access to bare skin as he moved upwards, nibbling on my earlobe and licking the outer shell, his name from my lips bringing a satisfied smirk to his as he smoothed his hands up and downward along my back. I hummed appreciatively in the back of my throat as I caressed his chest and stomach, wishing for the feel of heated skin instead of the robes, and slowly lowered my hand to cup his growing arousal. I reveled in his guttural groan of need, stroking him tenderly through his trousers with a skill acquired from numerous sessions of lovemaking, each an expert on how to please one another, his hands clutching my hips frantically. We both breathed heavily, panting from the blissful sensations coursing through our veins, and I gasped in wonder to feel him so hard beneath me.

"Je t'aime, Connor. Mon ami. Mon mari. Mon amant." I whispered the last words as I brushed my lips over his, once, twice, three times before he closed the scant distance, molding his to mine. "Kanbhik, Aveline. I need you. But will I hurt you or the baby?" I smiled broadly, tears nearly falling again at his concern for our unborn child, his previous words belied. "No, you won't hurt the baby or me, Connor. Please, it's been far too long." My agile fingers leisurely unfastened the buttons holding his coat closed, secretly delighting in the curses he muttered under his breath in Mohawk as my tongue traced a path down his torso where his flesh was exposed while I firmly squeezed him through his trousers. He hissed my name through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched in frustration as he arched further into my hand, unconsciously pleading for more. It was him who denied both of us the pleasure of coupling as I grew heavy with child, and I would make sure he suffered adequately for this unnecessary torture.

"Tell me, was it worth it? To sustain from touching me for days, weeks, months even? Doesn't this feel so much better, much more natural?" His eyes fluttered shut in defeat as I gave his erection a light tug, the wolf deciding to concede to my desires, if only fleeting. A miniscule victory against his obduracy.

"I could say that I am sorry and it still would not be enough to satisfy your vanity. What are going to do with me?" Longing underlined with nervous anticipation coated his voice, its inflexion deeper and hoarse with the recognizable effects of carnal excitement, and I grinned wickedly.

"That's for me to know and you to find out once you take me to bed. The longer you dally, the more severe your punishment becomes. You've got your work cut out for you, Connor." I scraped the nails of my free hand against his bare chest roughly, a deep growl rumbling in his throat as I dug deeper into his flesh, my teeth sinking into his muscled shoulder and other hand continuing to massage his clothed arousal as he cried out sharply in pleasurable agony.

"_Now_." My tone didn't leave room for dispute and I gasped as he pulled me flush against him, admiring his strength and virility as he stood with me clinging to him desperately, legs wrapped around narrow hips and arms bound around his neck as he carried me inside, his destination beneath the sheets of our bed. I felt his swollen sex poking me through the fabric of his trousers and, with a mischievous smirk, I rolled my hips against his, delighting in his little groan of sexual frustration. "Are you ready, Connor?"

His breathing labored, he responded with a zealous kiss, his short fingernails digging into my thighs as he pressed me against one of the walls, grinding his hips against mine as a prelude of what was to come. "What do you think? I _burn_ for you, Aveline. You…alone. I love you." I weaved a hand through his thick black hair, bringing his head down for another soul-shattering kiss and he moved away from the wall's support as he continued toward our room, the floorboards creaking under his weight as passed over them. If the need wasn't so urgent, I might have giggled in irrational hilarity. I'd told him beforehand he was hefty, great in stature…and other things too, but he merely grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath in reply. Hopefully, we wouldn't have to add the bedposts to the list of things needing repair. I leaned down to open the door for him, and he crossed the threshold within a few quick steps. I locked the door behind us for good measure, my hands tugging fiercely on the laces holding his pants secure as he adeptly undid the tiny buttons along the back of my dress, his lips easily locating the sensitive cord in my neck with an appetite ravenous for my flesh. _Mmmm, it's been far too long._

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_**Two hours later...**_

As we spooned together after consummating over love once again, I stroked his hand resting on my stomach protectively, his gesture soothing and comforting. He gently kissed the curve of my shoulder, caressing the love marks he'd left behind with his mouth as we made wild passionate love to each other with the tips of his digits. "Are you sore, konoronhkwa?" Supreme satisfaction altered his voice, a deep rumble from behind, and I turned over on my other side towards him, a languid half-grin plastered to face. "Slightly. I may require some assistance in the morning. I assume you enjoyed yourself?" He enclosed me in his embrace, my head lying upon his chest as I snuggled into his warmth as far as my extended abdomen would allow. "Immensely. I wish you would stop scratching me though. You draw blood sometimes."

"Sorry, mon amour. But in my defense, I wasn't as rough with you as I normally am. Besides, I know that a part of you enjoys it. It's your little dirty secret." His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his embarrassment evident.

"Well, I usually don't _mind_ if the person inflicting pain is…attractive."

"And am I attractive?" He made a show of considering my appearances and I smacked him soundly on his thigh, earning a small snicker from his chords.

"I think you are beautiful, Aveline. You know that."

"What about me do you find beautiful then?" He eyed me shamelessly, wanton yearning filling his eyes and I bit my lip in anticipation.

"Hmmm…where to begin? Your long hair, your eyes, your lips, your long neck, your soft skin, your supple breasts, your hips, your shapely legs, the way your toes curl in pleasure…"

I blushed furiously. "Wait, you notice that?"

"Yes, I take note of everything. Even when you think I'm not paying attention." _Smug bastard._

"Touché, Connor." We continued to relish in the afterglow our love, simply holding on to one another as the day progressed, gazing into each other's eyes, silently communicating our love and affection for one another. He fell asleep before I did and I held him to me, stroking his soft ebony hair and admiring how handsome he was. A light snore escaped from his mouth twitching reflexively in slumber, his body exhausted from numerous hours of strenuous lovemaking. Sometime later, as my mind slipped into unconsciousness, my body losing the battle against exhaustion, I glimpsed up at him, the softest of smiles adorning his features, before I too succumbed, ensconced within the arms of my lover, my husband, my Connor.

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**A/N: So was it bad or good? I tried to do another funny one-shot but this ended up being somewhat serious between the two. For some reason, I find it very hard to write in Aveline's character and the one thing I can't stand is when people write out of character, so my apologies there. Connor has a wild side. I don't believe someone as stern as him doesn't have a isn't a little freaky. Also, thought it would be funny to picture how he'd react when he found was a father, the initial excitement which fades into annoyance at the fact that he must share her with someone else. Like I said, the mind of a child in a man's body somedays. So I'm tired now. Need to finish next chapter of Chance, so those of you who read that, I want to have it completed sometime next week after exams are done with. Let me know what you think.**


	2. Farewell

_Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed 3 or it characters. If it were up to me, Connor would've got a better ending._**  
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**A/N: So I have decided to continue this and branch it into one big story. I'm not exactly sure how long I will keep this going, but i really do enjoy writing in Aveline's POV. Especially when it comes to Connor. Always leave a review if you can and favorite and follow if you begin to like this little tale. BTW, this is set about 2 years after they originally meet and a year after they are married. We shall see if I can bring any of the AC3 quests in. And I want to bring in Aveline's story as well but I'm still trying to figure out how. Again we shall see because I don't want to write a complete alternate universe. And now for the chapter...**

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**_Davenport Manor_**

**_May 2, 1779_**

We rested in our bed the remainder of the day, lazily relaxing in company of one another. I dozed lightly, awakened to soft lips brushing teasing caresses on the hollow of my throat and a large calloused hand trailing up my side to cup my breast gently. I moaned softly, arching into his light touch as he whispered in my ear, my skin tingling in response to the promise in his voice. "It is about time you arouse." He pressed his lips to mine in a tender kiss and I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me, his hard body as near as my engorged belly would permit. "Lay on your back." He smirked as he obliged my command, leisurely rotating to lay supine while I straddled his waist, determined to wipe that arrogant grin from his face, to have him gasping and groaning beneath me. "Are you not the least bit tired from earlier?" To my surprise, his smile widened further, mischievous and impish. "I should be, but I am not."

"I assume you wouldn't mind if I had my way with you then." I stroked his chest and abdomen with purpose, deliberately skimming over areas I knew gave him the most pleasure, silently enjoying how he writhed and twisted as I began tickling him. He huffed, light breaths of air barely passing for a laugh falling from his mouth, his muscles tensing at the contact before he grabbed my hands to still them. It was more a statement than a query but he still replied nonetheless.

"No, but I…" I effectively cut of his speech as my lips closed over his, a miniscule gasp the only indication I had taken him by surprise. He groaned softly, his hands releasing mine own as one reached up to weave through my lengthy dark locks while to other rested on the curve of my hip. I nipped at his bottom lip, tugging at it mildly before I pulled away, much to his chagrin, his eyes glowing with a restrained desire. "I need to rest before I leave." There was a slight hoarseness to his voice, but to his creditability, his tone remained level and even.

"You can spare a few hours of rest to entertain your wife. Besides, you've slumbered most of the day."

"Aveline, I _must_." That infuriating, block-headedness of his began to rear its ugly head once more and I was in no mood to humor him. We only had so much time before morning arrived and I wished to spend every moment possible with him conscious before he needed to depart. I placed my hand over his mouth to silence him and leaned down, hissing my threat in his ear.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Choose." I felt a shudder pass through him as his eyes darkened with an all too familiar hunger, that of a rapacious beast needing to satiate his longing for flesh upon my skin. He would never admit it, but I understood that he liked whenever I took control of our sexual encounters, to a certain extent. The power switches between partners aroused both of us greatly, an opportunity to experiment, discovering our deepest, darkest desires and sharing them, each one always wholly gratifying. My husband proved to be a worthy student and teacher, learning all that excited me as well as instructing me in the best methods to arouse his passion. When I finished with him, he was no longer ignorant of a woman's body or the mechanics of sex, any lingering modesty or hesitation dwindling with each passing coupling.

He moved quickly, crushing me to him as he flipped the situation in his favor and he pressed me into the mattress, looming over me with a predatory gleam in his orbs, his lips attacking the sensitive skin of my neck with a voraciousness that astounded me. I moaned breathlessly against his onslaught as I angled my head, granting him more flesh to feast upon, and my fingers found purchase on his shoulders as I dug my nails into the muscle. If he wished to play this game, I would show no mercy. He grunted in pain as my short nails bit further, little half-moon indentations left behind as I drug my hands down his back in a rough caress, raking the surface with enough force for angry red welts to rise.

"Aveline, uh…that hurts."

"Ce n'est pas mon problème. This position isn't very comfortable either." The additional weight from carrying a child placed extra pressure on my back, the discomfort increasing the longer I remained lying on my spine with my full weight combined with a portion of his resting on my pelvis. He relented, once again rolling to lie on his back as I settled comfortably on his hips, my hands resting on his chest for balance as I shifted atop his growing arousal, feeling his hoarse groan rumble beneath my palms. I grinned in proud satisfaction. I had him exactly where I wanted.

"Mmmmm…much better. Now where were we?" I sank down slowly, gasping in pained pleasure as my body stretched to accept him, his hands immediately going to my hips and gripping with such a strength I feared he would mark them indefinitely as I sheathed him completely, the shape of his enormous handprints my brand. He threw his head back, his eyes shut and jaw clenched tight as he waited beneath me, spellbound, his chest heaving in excitement.

"ngh… Aveline… I – I need you. Please." I obliged his plea and began to move, his hard flesh sliding within my slick center as I took him in and out my body, our pace increasing as our need to be consumed whole by the passion between us rose. Moaning, gasping, arching, groaning, each of us crying out in rapture as we both reached our heights of fulfillment.

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"Mmmm, Connor?" I lay next to him on my side as our bodies continued to cool from our impassioned exchange, snuggling into his warmth beneath the blankets as I pillowed my head upon his chest. I still tingled from my crown to my toes, tiny shivers bringing goose bumps to my flesh as he idly stroked my back in soothing circles, his deep voice reverberating against my eardrums when he finally spoke.

"Yes, konoronhkwa?"

"I don't want you to go…" I knew there was no point in pleading with him to stay, that he not embark on this risky undertaking, but the Assassin's logic couldn't quell the concerns and anxieties the wife possessed. Many what-ifs were presented before me and I tried my best to subdue any worries, but my thoughts kept envisioning the severest outcomes. My greatest fear was that our unborn child would meet the same fate as Connor, raised without a father.

"I know. I must attend to this issue. I cannot ignore the obligations I still have to the Brotherhood." Damn his obligations and duties. None of was any more important than the babe growing inside me. It was selfish of me and I hated myself, my conscience calling me a hypocrite, understanding fully that I would follow the same path were I in his situation, but I didn't care. He was still my husband and I loved him all the same.

"Please return home to me safely, Connor. If anything, please promise me that." It was a plea of desperation, birthed from nightmares of his death at the hands of our enemies, and as I dared a glance upwards, his intense gaze caught mine own, an affirmation in itself. He would come back home, no matter what happened.

"I love you, Aveline. Remember that." His hold around me tightened, his gestures protective and consoling, and I buried my face into his shoulder, hot tears burning in the back of my eyes, my throat thick with emotion. "I love you too, mon amour. Be safe."

"Shhh, skén:nen. Sleep, tiakení:teron. It is not time to for goodbyes yet." He kissed me fiercely upon my forehead before hunkering down for a long, restful slumber, my husband fast asleep within minutes, his snores interrupting the silence of the night. I observed him as he slept, memorizing little nuances of his features unmarred with anger and bitterness before I resigned myself to an uneasy sleep.

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**_May 3, 1779_**

I wished the morning hadn't come so soon. I watched him dress and prepare himself for the upcoming conflict, clad in his white robes while he inspected one of his flintlock pistols to ensure it was in working order. His bow and quiver full of arrows sat atop the desk in the middle of the room, and I wandered towards the weapon in fascination, inwardly marveling how such a crude instrument was capable of such deadly accuracy as I weighed to bow in my hands. He looked up from the firearm at hand, shortly halting in his task as he approached me from behind. This part was always the hardest. For the both of us. Especially now.

"It is beautiful."

"Thank you. I crafted it myself."

"I have seen you use it before, but never did I pay attention to any of the artwork. You are very skilled with it. "

"Yes, I am. Do you trust me?"

He wrapped his arms around my wide middle, resting his heavy palms on the curve of my belly, and he nuzzled my temple with his cheek, inhaling deeply of me. I choked against the lump forming in my throat, lamenting wordlessly. If only he didn't have to leave.

"Y-yes, of course I do."

"Then trust me to return home to you, and to baby in one piece."

"I do, Connor. It is _them_ I do not trust. Templar bâtards. Please…_ be careful_."

"You fear something will go wrong?" His brow furrowed in confusion, my words instilling a sense of disquiet and an atmosphere of foreboding. Something, maybe woman's intuition, told me this would end only in failure and plenty of mine own mishaps beforehand had taught me to heed to its warnings.

"I don't know how to explain, but this you are about to embark on can only end in disaster. Please mon mari, reconsider."

Displeasure lined his reply. "Hmph, you sound like Achilles now."

I scoffed, slight incensed he would compare me to the old man. "You mistake my words, monsieur. I seek to _advise_, not to _discourage_. You won't have a second pair of eyes to watch your back, and I have my reservations about this whole plan entirely."

"Ah, yes. My headstrong Assassin who wishes do what she pleases when she pleases, but she cannot offer the same luxury to her husband. I will see you upon my arrival, konoronhkwa." He moved away from me to collect the rest of his gear, putting each item in its proper place before lifting the hood of his robes over his eyes, his face obscured for the exception of his nose down to his strong jaw. He leaned down to grant me a farewell kiss, tenderly wiping at the moisture beneath my eyes as he gathered my face within his palms with such care. "Farewell, Connor. I hope see you soon." With a small nod, he was down the stairs, speaking with Achilles on his mission further as he made his way towards the mare I knew was waiting for him. I followed him, only allowing myself to stand on the porch of the manor as he fluidly mounted the horse with a grace few men possessed, the old man continuing to lecture him on the importance of his success.

"Take care when traveling into Boston, Connor. I do not know what our enemy is up to."

"I know what is I must do. I will exercise caution. I now have more than just myself to think about."

He glanced over his shoulder, his dark orbs locking with my brown ones in the distance, and he crossed his forearm over his chest, his fist resting over his heart as he bowed his head. An unspoken promise. I returned the gesture, completely ignoring the look Achilles gave us, a warm smile curling the corners of my lips upward.

"Yaah!" I watched as his horse galloped off into the distance, the figure slowly disappearing as the gap between us grew, and I resigned myself to waiting in our bedroom for his homecoming, praying that this wasn't the last time I would see him alive.

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**So sorry about the cliffie but I had to get it out of the way. She really, really didn't want Connor to go and you'll see why in the next chapter. Can't promise the next chapter will be all fluff but these two will have their happy ending. They deserve it. Like I said before, let me know what you think. Ideas for future scences are appreciated! Untill next time...**


	3. A Fool's Errand

_I do not own Assassin's Creed 3 or its characters._

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. I love reading the reviews and they motivate me to write more. I hope this chapter will make up for the delay. Life gets in the way of writing and some things come first, but I will never abandon my stories. Not after I post them on FF. So I will warn you, there is little plot development but enjoy the moments of fluff before shit hits the fan. Please forgive any errors. I scanned for grammatical errors very briefly. See the end for additional author's notes.**_  
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**And now for the chapter...**

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**_Davenport Manor_**

**_May 3, 1779_**

**_Midday_**

I was restless, nothing but a bundle of overwrought nerves. I soon left the comfort of our bed, needing to occupy myself with some task or chore on the Homestead. Anything that would prevent my ruminations from drifting to Connor. Saying goodbye was never this difficult before I became pregnant. We both understood our responsibilities well enough, that certain missions called us away from home and on the rare occasion, from each other, but conceiving a babe had raised the stakes. We were always careful in our undertakings, he more cautious than I, but the margin for error decreased significantly after we first learned I was with child.

New York is where we first met, my assignment leading me into deep into the frozen landscape of the British colonies. Never would tell him, but I will admit I was attracted to him as my eyes fell upon his crouched form, the white of his robes blending in surreptitiously with the snow, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings for any signs of life.

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**_New York_**

**_January 5, 1777_**

_"Connor?" He twisted, glimpsing over his shoulder as I approached and rose to his full height, eyes regarding me warily beneath the hood as he tilted his head to the right in mild curiosity._

_"Yes?"_

_"I'm Aveline de Grandpré. Your… "brother" from New Orleans." Recognition lit up his features as he briefly glanced down to the red sash around my hips, the material encircled with the belt sporting the Assassin's symbol nearly identical to his. His stance relaxed a bit, and he nodded slightly in understanding._

_"Ah, yes. Achilles told me you would come. What is it you require?"_

_ "I seek a Loyalist, Officer Davidson, of Lord Dunmore's Ethiopian Regiment." He sighed deeply, troubled, and gestured with gloved hands to the scorched earth behind us. _

_"That regiment passed through here. This… is the destruction they have left behind." Patches of dried weeds and grass were charred where soldier had attempted to burn the foliage, vast numbers of tree stumps marking the places where great oaks and evergreens once stood tall. I sidestepped around Connor and marched into the clearing, kneeing in the freshly deposited snow, and I noticed upon further inspection that, this section at least was salted, the texture of the granules distinctive as I rubbed the slush between my fingers in spite the numbness in the digits._

_Why the need to defile the lands? What purpose did it serve?_

_I frowned, watching my companion as he strolled to my side. "We must stop them."_

_"Their trail leads this way. We will follow them carefully." _

_He merely pointed towards in the wilderness in front of us, I could only presume east, and walked past me in the swirling flurry, not even bothering to confirm if I followed._

_"Oui." He halted where he stood, casting a bewildered look in my direction, confusion etched upon his features visible, and it dawned on me that he probably didn't comprehend French._

_"I said that earlier." Oh… he thought I said "we"._

_I barely curbed a fit of laughter. "Yes is what I meant." _

_"Oh… Let us continue." He turned from me once more, continuing his hike through the knee-deep white expanse, and I arched a brow in puzzlement._

_Was he always like this or was it the cold affecting his disposition?_

_I sighed deeply, pushing the thoughts I harbored about this enigmatic man down as I trailed behind him. For now._

Even then, he was a mystery I longed to solve. I took a seat upon the mattress, unconsciously stroking my belly while my recollections grew deeper. I was successful in my mission, apprehending the last clue I needed in discovering the identity of The Company Man. Connor held off the guards in the fort while I chased after "Officer Davidson", the alias of George, a slave I'd freed in one of my liberation missions. His death saddened me, but I was wholly troubled by George's final words to me. I still am to this very day.

**_Later that day…_**

_ "I chose my destiny. That is real freedom. Perhaps you will know it one day too." _

_The statements echoed in my skull._

_Was true freedom the ability to make your own decisions? _

_Was everything I'd been taught a lie?_

_We were worse for the wear yet alive, a combination of our and our enemies' blood staining our clothing, both weary from combat._

_"Did you find what you sought?"_

_At a price. "Oui. And much that I didn't...Connor?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Are you always…certain in the means and ways of the Brotherhood?" _

_He hesitated greatly, shuffling on his feet as he searched for the best words to convey his opinions, before he finally spoke. "I… trust in my own hands. To judge what is right and what is wrong."_

_"Of course." _

_Misguided souls are we, mon ami._

_"Travel safely."_

_"Merci…thank you. It's the arrival that concerns me." At his puzzled frown, I translated my French into English and the scowl transformed into a smirk as he empathized with my plight._

_"Then you are on the right path." I moved to depart from my companion, taking no more than three steps away from him when the blistering winds gathered strength, the snowstorm so fierce I could barely see anything beyond snowflakes whirling in the wind and the silhouette of the trees. I snarled curses beneath my breath at my miserable luck._

_As if I liked the weather beforehand. Now Mother Nature wished to dump more ice upon my head._

_At this very moment, I despised snow. _

_Yet I was too engrossed in my mental tirade to notice the presence that lingered._

_A large hand wrapped itself around my arm and I nearly jumped out of my skin, every instinct screaming, "Attack!", as I was tugged backwards into something hard, my hidden blade retracting soundlessly as lunged forward to strike. Another hand, gloved, caught the limb effortlessly and gaped wordlessly as I stared into Connor's shadowed eyes narrowed in warning. _

_"Don't." I blinked owlishly a few times, my mind still foggy with shock, before I ripped my arms from his grasp, infuriated that he'd startled me yet faintly thankful he hadn't abandoned me._

_"How dare you! You frightened me half to death. Don't ever…**ever** grab in such a manner again!"_

_He merely crossed his arms over his chest, exhaling loudly through his nostrils. "You did not respond when I called your name."_

_"Quoi?! I thought you'd left already!"_

_"No. I thought you realized I was still behind you. I was trying to tell you I knew of shelter nearby. Follow me."_

_He motioned for me to trail him, already moving in his intended direction, but I remained fixed where I stood, my ire unabated, my pride finding it difficult to swallow that fact that he'd taken me unawares._

_"Why should I?" Once more, he huffed under his breath and whirled around to face me, his stare authoritative as he regarded me like one would an unruly child._

_"You have two options. You can come with me and get out of the storm or you can stay and freeze. Choose."_

_"I don't need your help, monsieur!" The blustery gusts picked up more speed, lifting loose snow from its resting place to swirl about our frames, and I cursed my teeth as they began to chatter incessantly. It was a lie and we both knew it, but I was far beyond caring._

_He clenched his jaw in aggravation and I experienced some satisfaction in upsetting him, but as he tilted his head to right, his gaze calculating, his sudden calm demeanor gave me pause._

_What's he up to? _

_"Well, I cannot leave you here, as much as I would like to. I would never hear the end of it from Achilles. So… you leave me no other choice." I let out an indignant cry as he hefted me up onto one his shoulders, his arm wound firmly about my waist as he held me in place and I beat against his back with tiny fists, furious._

_"Imbécile! Put me down! **Now**! Sanglant sauvage! Let me go!"_

_"I will put you down when we arrive at the shack."_

_I smacked the back of his head with my palm and he growled beneath his breath in a language foreign to me, his grip tightening in warning around my waist, and I whined as his hold constricted my struggles. "Let me go!"_

_"Quiet."_

_"I will… once you release me. I won't repeat myself again. Put. Me…"_

_"__**I SAID QUIET**__!" I felt his bellow vibrate through me body and something inside me snapped._

_How __**dare**__ he think he could command me! That I'd just obey his orders!_

_I raised my elbow high and struck the space between his shoulder blades with all my strength, his gasp of pained surprise my reward. His clutch loosened, I slipped out of his arms and onto the ice-covered terrain, my fist swinging up and connecting with his solar plexus and I felt a rush of warm air against my face as it was forced from his lungs. I leaped back into a defensive stance as he bent forward, a hand placed over the offended area tenderly while he gradually rose from his hunched form. I met his gaze under the cover of his hood, his eyes glassy with tears he refused to shed, emotions running rampant, hatred the most prevalent with… admiration? Respect?_

_"I underestimated you. It __**will not**__ happen again." The coolness in his breathless voice unnerved me._

_Most men would be livid, but I was beginning to learn he wasn't like most._

_"I'm no ordinary woman. My profession has seen to that."_

_His eyes briefly flicked over my figure. "So I see…" _

_I narrowed my eyes in suspicion and pursued my lips into a thin line._

_What the hell was __**that**__ supposed to mean?!_

_ "Come. The storm is getting worse."_

_ I wisely bit back the angry retort resting on the tip of my tongue. I knew it wouldn't please Agaté if I'd inflicted injury upon a "brother", no matter how minor, and it wouldn't engender amity between us if I continued to harass him. Besides, I really wasn't in an ideal position to argue with him. I crossed my arms across my torso, involuntarily shivering while the blizzard continued to rage around us. _

_"Fine."_

_I heard him mutter something in an unfamiliar tongue, the words laced with annoyance and a hint of gratitude before he turned from yet again and silence encompassed us. _

_"Niá:wen."_

* * *

Now I knew what the phrase meant and I chuckled to myself, marveling how neither one of us managed to seriously harm or kill the other that day. Yes, I'm sure Connor was grateful I finally allotted him some peace and quiet on our journey. I stayed a few days with him until the tempest quieted which of course, granted me more than enough time to apologize for my rash conduct and reconcile our differences, ending with amicable farewell and a mutual agreement to continue correspondence through letters. It was testing to repress my arrogance and ask for forgiveness, but in hindsight, I was so glad I did.

_Maudit, I'm doing it again…_

I wasn't supposed to think about him, and what exactly was I doing?

_Foolish woman…have you no control? _

I huffed in slight irritation and focused my attentions on the rumpled sheets and blankets covering the mattress, rearranging them so they lay flat across the width of the bed along with fluffing the pillows and placing them against the headboard. As I worked, my mind wandered back to last night, heat flushing my cheeks a light pink and coiling deep with my belly as images of our bodies entwined, fondling and gyrating, flashed before my eyes. A bittersweet smile curled the corners of my lips upward and I hummed verses of a French love song I'd heard long ago to myself, sighing despondently once I finished.

I missed him already.

A knock upon the door opened ajar interrupted my remembrances and I shook my head, smirking ruefully before turning to greet my visitor, none other than old man Achilles.

_Not an ounce, and bloody proud of it too!_

"Ah, Aveline! You're in much better spirits than I imagined I would find you in." No surprise the old man came to check up on me, if not of his own volition, I was sure my husband asked his …well, _our_ mentor to watch over me. Such a worrywart, but I appreciated his concern nonetheless.

"I'm fine, Achilles. Really. It's just… I don't know. I-I feel as though Connor…Connor will come home injured or…worse. Call it woman's intuition or a wife fretting over her husband but something inside tells me this was a bad idea." I clutched at my breast ardently, hoping that he would at least acknowledge my fears, praying that he wouldn't dismiss them as Connor had. He nodded solemnly, his brows drawn together in thought as he absorbed my words.

"Perhaps it is the prospect of motherhood because never before were you worried about such risks. I still haven't forgotten the time you both returned to me battered and bloodied after a reconnaissance _you_ pressured Connor into, even after I _strictly forbid_ both of you from going. Connor had a limp for days and you a black eye for your troubles. Still, I am glad to see that impulsive streak of yours begin to diminish, though I'm afraid it won't ever truly disappear." I grinned widely and walked with him in tow from the bedroom and down the stairs, slowly descending the flight of steps and refraining from assisting Achilles.

_He wouldn't accept it anyways. The old man's too proud for help._

"Non, mon ami. Otherwise, I wouldn't be moi." He shook his head wearily, chuckling lightly under his breath as we reached the bottom of the staircase and moved towards the door in tandem.

"That may be true, but that makes dealing with you… problematical. Bless Connor's poor soul." I rolled my eyes at his teasing, grateful for the reprieve our playful banter offered, before I sobered.

"Achilles, I must know. Who is the man Connor has offered his aid too? I've never heard of this person before, yet he claims loyalty to our cause."

"Allan Smith. I've met with him on several occasions and he appears trustworthy, but his eyes…"

"Oui?" I pressed forward hoping to obtain answers that might dispel any doubts.

"His eyes are those of a viper, treacherous. Perhaps I read too much into things, my dear. His devotion to the Brotherhood hasn't faltered once in the course of our association and he's never given me true cause for suspicion."

I shook my head, my countenance grave as my hands twitched by my sides, yearning for the robust leather gloves to envelop them and the feel of steel against my palm. I felt so powerless, understanding fully that I ought to warn him of this man, that I should ride into town myself to tell him, but I knew Achilles would never allow it, and even if I passed by him, Connor would be so incensed that he'd not listen.

"Calm yourself, Aveline. I've told the boy of my reservations. Whether or not he heeded my warning, I can't tell you. But I do know this. You must relax. Stress is harmful to you and the baby, and I would hate to see a repeat of what happened with my wife, Abigail." He placed a hand on my shoulder in paternal comfort at my apprehensiveness, gently squeezing, yet his words did little to soothe me.

I frowned, suddenly nervous. "Ce qui s'est passé ?... What happened?"

"She went into labor before her due date. By the time the doctor finally arrived, she'd already delivered Connor. Nearly scared me to death. You wouldn't want to put your husband through that ordeal, would you? As your mentor and friend, I'm asking on his behalf that you take the time to unwind a bit." My brows sailed to my forehead in astonishment, my head bobbing furiously as I contemplated giving birth with only Connor's guidance and support.

_Mon Dieu, that's a disaster in the making! Thank God that we have Dr. White!_

"I…will try, Achilles. But I can't make any promises."

"Go speak with the women on this subject. I'm sure Ellen, Prudence, Catherine, or Diana would be more than happy to offer some advice and insight. Myriam and Corrine do not have any experience with such matters, but I'm sure they'd welcome your company. Go on now. Shoo!" I smirked as the old man opened the door and promptly pushed me through the doorsill, nudging the back of my legs with his cane when I hesitated. I executed a mock curtsy, my eyes shimmering with glee.

"A plus tard, mon ami. I'll be back soon."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Oui?"

"We've had this conversation before. The walls aren't soundproof and noises from the upstairs bedroom do travel. Please keep it down as some of us do sleep during the night. And if need be, I'm not beyond interrupting trysts if it means I'll get some rest. Are we clear?" I blushed hotly, embarrassed Achilles had overhead our _rencontre_. It wasn't as though we were trying to be quiet, but we didn't realize we were rowdy enough to disturb the old man.

"Oui. Je suis désolé. My apologies."

A part of me was glad he hadn't walked in us earlier yesterday, although I'm sure he'd figured out the reason for our uncharacteristic slothfulness.

"Yes…well, off you go. I don't want to see you around the manor for the next couple of hours. Am I understood?"

"Oui, oui I'm going, I'm going!" I exclaimed as I sauntered down the steps, throwing my hands up in a display of dramatics, before making my way towards the inn. I did not fail to catch his small smile and tired shake of his head in amusement as he hobbled back into the dwelling and shut the door.

Perhaps fresh air was what I needed. I immediately felt in harmony with nature, the melodies of the birds perched in the trees a balm to my frazzled soul, the emerald of foliage with pinks, purples, reds, yellows, any color you could imagine interspersed with the greenery a much-desired contrast to Winter's snow-white and glacial landscape. The spring breeze washed over my frame in gentle buffets, my trepidations and uncertainties slowly dissipating, if only fleeting. I traveled down the dirt path worn and carved into the land by soles of feet and wheels of wagon carts alike, winding towards the inn and in passing, I saw the tree Connor and I used for target practice when the atmosphere of the downstairs training room became too suffocating. Memories of another time came to visit once more.

* * *

**_August 18, 1778_**

_"You are too stiff. Relax your arms." He remarked from my flank as I took the rudimentary weapon and lined it up at the target approximately fifty meters away. This bow and these arrows were mine. My husband had constructed one for me and I received it as an early birthday/late-wedding gift with a promise he would teach me how to use it. This was my second week of instruction and I was improving. Dedication to the art along with preparation in my spare time helped immeasurably, but I was nowhere near Connor's proficiency level._

_"Like this?" I loosened my death grip on the instrument and eased the tension in my muscles, an awkward bend to my elbow and the hand tugging on the string lifted far too high._

_He freed a long- suffering sigh from his lungs as he moved to position my body correctly. "No. This arm here. Lower your hand. Like this." I inhaled sharply at the close proximity of his body, the scent of earth and musk I associated him with wafting up to my nostrils as one arm reached forward and simultaneously fixed the length of mine, the other I felt guide my hand lower._

_"Now widen your stance some. Yes. Now pull back. Hold." I did as instructed, pulling the twine taut, the wood creaking under the stress as my posture remained steady. His palm spanned the width of my slight waist and he pushed against my stomach softly, directing my breathing._

_"Breathe in… Out. Release." I felt the sturdy fibers slap the bracer strapped to my forearm, the twang of the cord reverberating in my eardrum distinctive yet pleasing._

_"Good. Now use an arrow." He stepped away, retreating to his former location, and I knew I was on my own this time around. I repeated the motions I'd performed beforehand, a minute growl of displeasure escaping my lips as the arrow fell far its mark._

_Dammit!_

_He chuckled lightly and I sent a glare in his direction, which only cause the smirk to widen into a smile. "I changed my mind. You are hopeless."_

_"Not true!"_

_He gestured ahead where the fallen arrow laid, smug grin still creasing his maw, much to my annoyance. "The target says otherwise, konoronhkwa."_

_I seized my opening and set the trap. "How about a little wager then?"_

_He tilted his head to right, a telling sign he was curious. "Go on."_

_"If I hit my target, you owe me an apology and a kiss." Surprise flitted over his feature momentarily before he schooled them back into neutrality, crossing his arms over his chest in his usual show of indifference._

_"And if you are not successful?"_

_Now for the bait. "What would you like, dear husband?"_

_"Hmmm… a massage."_

_"Allez bien, deal."_

_He held up a hand in pause. "Wait."_

_Shit._

_"Oui?"_

_Eyes narrowed in distrust regarded me warily and I knew he suspected foul play._

_ "That was too easy."_

_ Clever man._

_I brushed off his observations with an uncaring shrug, praying he wouldn't perceive my façade and his arrogance would take care of the rest. "Je ne crois pas. Besides, according to you I'm hopeless. Why need you worry?"_

_Check._

_He didn't look convinced, still he relented nonetheless. With a click of his tongue, he cocked his head in the direction of the goal, watching me with a critical eye, looking for any faults as I readied my weapon and aimed down the range. Deep breaths. _

_In. _

_Out. _

_In. _

_Out. _

_Release._

_The arrow sailed smoothly through the air, hitting the bull's eye with a rewarding thump, the barb of the arrowhead embedded deep within the wood. I shouted in victory, grinning from ear to ear triumphantly as I turned to face my husband, who was now scowling in disapprobation._

_Checkmate._

_"You tricked me." I abandoned my bow by my quiver before strolled towards him, swaying my hips languidly from side to side, and I placed my palms on his chest daringly, taunting him with my achievement._

_What are you going to do about it? _

_My eyes glowed in delight. "I would like my kiss now. And non, I did not. There's no rule against practicing in my spare time. Vous avez l'air déçu. Are you upset, my dear?" He huffed under his breath, slightly bothered I'd deceived him, but I knew he wasn't all upset as his arms wound around my middle, yanking me closer to his hard physique while a grudging smile tugged on his lips._

_"I concede… for now."_

_"My apology, monsieur."_

_"I am sorry…" _

_Why must he be so difficult?_

_I should've known pride would hamper his ability to apologize appropriately, especially when he believed he was right. _

_"For?"_

_"For truthfully criticizing your skill with the bow and arrow."_

_"Ha. Try being insensitive to your wife."_

_"I see nothing wrong with being honest." I rolled my eyes at his unwavering mulishness._

_Of course not, you stubborn ass. _

_It mattered little though. I was after the real prize._

_"Where's my kiss?" He exhaled loudly, muttering something in Mohawk, before he leaned down to press his lips against mine in a tender yet firm kiss. My hands slid up further, one settling on his broad shoulder and the other entwining through his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth and tangling with mine. He tasted of fruit, perhaps an apple he'd eaten earlier and I moaned softly when he released my lips for breath and cupped my bottom, his lips covering mine in a demanding kiss yet again, his aggression never failing to take my breath away. But before I realized his intentions, he had lifted me and compressed me against his muscled build, moving swiftly to the ground and pinning my limbs with his before I had time to react accordingly. No point in struggling. He had the upper hand and I knew it wouldn't bode well for me if I provoked his temper._

_I still a right to act cross with my husband's lack of sportsmanship though._

_"Connor! C'est pas juste!"_

_I sensed the smile in his tone as he leaned down to taste my flesh, his teeth grazing the side of my neck lightly as his fingers intertwined with mine._

_"Everything is permitted,_ _tiakení:teron." His voice held a promise, its inflexion husky with the growing arousal I glimpsed in his orbs darkened with desire, and he stood, offering a hand I readily took as he led me away from the settlement and deeper into the forest, towards a little clearing near the gushing waterfall, our designated location when we wished for solitude._

_"Come."_

I sighed downheartedly, melancholy once more. Thinking about Connor wouldn't make him return sooner, and it increased the ache in my heart, if anything. But almost everything around the Homestead reminded me of him, in some form or fashion. I hoped a chat with some of the women would uplift my spirits.

* * *

**_Late Afternoon_**

Achilles was right. I enjoyed conversing with all the residents, not just the women, immensely, especially Myriam, her personality the most reminiscent of mine own. I didn't see Diana or Catherine, but Terry and Godfrey were present, sitting at one of the long tables with tankards of ale in their hands, discussing the condition of the mill and the profits of the last convoy that'd returned. I spoke with them briefly, blushing softly when they joked about how Connor wasted no time impregnating me and exchanging bets on how long it'd be before I was swollen with our next baby.

"Godfrey, I telling you, come harvest, Aveline here'll be pregnant again. I'm sure when Connor's around, you don't get much rest now do you?" I shifted from side to side awkwardly. I'd learned early on Terry was very bold in his assertions, to the point of crudeness, and Godfrey, sensing my discomfiture, promptly clocked his partner upside the head.

"Hush, ya blockhead. That's none of your business. Besides, you're makin' the lass blush." Terry scowled, fists raised in retaliation as he rose from the table and Godfrey stood, his unyielding gaze locked with his companion, and I knew I needed to calm the men before a slap escalated into an all-out brawl between the two. "Gentlemen, please. There is no need for all this hostility. Besides, imagine explaining to your wives why you returned to them beaten and bruised. If it will please both of you, Connor is very… enthusiastic in all of his endeavors and I'm certain he desires another child after this one is born."

"Works for me. What say you, Terry? Truce?" Godfrey stuck his hand out for Terry, and the man looked as though he was going to refuse the offer before he smirked ruefully.

"Never been able to stay mad at ya for long, Godfrey. Truce." I sighed in relief, happy I'd manage to prevent an altercation between them. Albeit, one involving me.

Men could be so juvenile some days.

"I'll go speak with Ellen and the others by the bar. It was nice talking with both of you. Au revior."

Ellen offered unlimited information on childbirth, ranging from breathing methods to the birthing positions, or the ones she'd used to deliver Maria. Corrine merely provided moral support and Myriam interjected in the conversation when she had the chance.

"Simply breathe in and out through your mouth in this manner. Deep breaths help as well." She demonstrated the technique, sucking in oxygen and puffing the air out in spurts of three, her mouth holding an O-shape, and I was hard pressed not to giggle at her. It seemed so ridiculous, so ludicrous to believe that it was actually effective. But who was I to judge?

"Ellen, you look silly. I see it like this Aveline. Your breathing style should be your own. Breathe however the hell you want to breathe. It needs to feel relaxed and natural, 'cause Lord knows that the last thing you'll be." Myriam interrupted Ellen's demonstration, her voice boisterous and brash as she eyed Ellen with a brow raised in question.

Ellen rolled her eyes before fixing Myriam with a sharp look, chastising her for her rude behavior and injudicious words. "You have some nerve, telling others what to do when you yourself have no experience at all. However, I will admit Myriam's coarse words do have some truth to them. That breathing style worked for me, but it may not necessarily work for you. Perhaps you and Connor should find a style that best suits you. It may seem silly, but it helps when you're trying to push a baby out." She smiled, grasping my hand in hers reassuringly, and I felt Myriam pat my shoulder in her attempt to console me.

Corrine spoke from behind the counter. "I can't give you much guidance either, dearie. Ollie and I could never conceive so I'm afraid I've little knowledge of such things. But we're all here if you need us. Like I said before, don't hesitate to ask for anything, alright?"

"Thank you all. For the advice and the support. It's been marvelous speaking with each and every one of you. I should head back to the manor. Connor will be expecting me on his return. Au revoir, mes amis." I took my leave of the inn, waving goodbye to each of the residents as I passed by, and began walking towards the residence. The day had progressed significantly during my stay at hostel, the sun no longer blazing brightly in the sky but level with the horizon, replacing the blue with an assortment of oranges, pinks, and purples.

_Connor should be on his way home._

I knocked lightly on the door to signify my entrance before stepping inside, the last thing I wanted to do was scare the old man half to death. I heard commotion from the dining room, a scraping of a chair against the wooden floors, and surmised he'd already eaten supper. I'd partaken of a meal earlier in the day to calm the rumbles and growls of my empty stomach, at Dr. White's instruction and Connor's persistent nagging that I cease with fasting for most of the day. A habit I had difficulties breaking, but I'd sacrifice personal comforts for the sake of our unborn child.

I would still have to cook something for my husband, yet I was vaguely glad he'd managed to gather some leftovers for sustenance. Achilles' voice echoed from the dining chamber as he hobbled out to greet me.

"Hello, Aveline."

I smiled amicably. "Bonjour, Achilles."

He returned the gesture in full. "And how was your day?"

"Good. Better than I thought it would be. Terry and Godfrey were the usually jokesters. I spoke with Ellen, Myriam, and Corrine on the subject of childbirth, and they were able to give me some insight. I'll speak with Connor on the matter further after he's arrived and rested from the trip."

"That's good to hear. I was just enjoying the relative peace and tranquility before the baby comes. True, it will never hold the same stillness and quiet before Connor and the settlers, but it's sweet bliss in comparison to a baby's unending cries. Little fussy things they can be."

I groaned beneath my breath. Another reminder of what was to come after the agony of giving birth. "Please, don't remind me."

"Don't worry. You'll both be fine parents."

I still wasn't too sure of my child-rearing abilities, a subject tersely discussed by my step-mother in my upbringing, and my mother too far away to draw upon her wisdom.

_I missed her too._

"You have a lot of faith in us, old man."

He grinned genially. "I do. Perhaps, it's rather foolish of me."

I gasped in faux offense. "You mock me, Achilles."

We both chuckled good-naturedly, both so accustomed to jesting with each other that it became second nature. "In all seriousness though, I trust that with time and a little guidance, you'll get the hang of things soon. You two have always been fast learners."

"Thank you. Your encouragement is heartening. Come with me into the kitchen. I must beginning cooking if I want to have the food prepared before Connor gets here." I walked into the kitchen connected to the dining area with the old man in tow, the room inviting and cozy from the low flames contained within the hearth, the warmth permeating the depth of my bones.

"Of course, my dear. Lead the way."

* * *

**_Midnight_**

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Something had happened. He was supposed to arrive hours ago, yet there was no sign of that marked his imminent advent. My post in the kitchen I'd long abandoned, the broth I'd made stewing within the confines of the cauldron, and I paced the length of the hallway back and forth, wringing my sweating hands nervously within my skirts. The weather reflected my current emotion state, torrents of rain pounding against the roof of the manor as the storm bathed the lands with spring showers.

_Where is Connor?! He should've been home by now!_

God, I hated feeling so utterly useless, unable to do anything but wait.

"Aveline, sit down. You're only wearing yourself out." Achilles reprimanded me from his bedroom, looking up from the ledger he was writing in at his desk before he returned to scribbling down notes on the pages.

"Aveline, you need to rest."

I grumbled beneath my breath at his scolding, too worried about my husband for his words to register in my mind worn-out with anxiety over Connor's well-being "I will rest when I know he is safe."

I sat down on the stairs, leaning against the oak banister of the stairwell, and I closed my eyes and bowed my head as I whispered a silent prayer.

_Please, don't take him away from me, Father. Let him return to me._

* * *

**_Davenport Manor_**

**_May 4, 1779_**

**_Dawn_**

I awoke to the clopping of hooves and the whinny of a horse, my mind immediately alert as I shook my head to ward of the fog of slumber.

_That's him! He's here!_

I ran for the door, my body groaning in protest from napping against the hard contours of the wood, but I ignored its complaints, stepping onto the porch with a renewed vigor only to halt in confusion.

_Connor?_

Two figures, a man leading a horse towards the manor, I distinguished in the hazy of the heavy rain. As they approached, I recognized the stranger on foot as Stephen Chapeau, Connor's right hand when it involved the Assassin's Guild, from recruiting seasoned veterans to training novices. He was weary, holding the look of many travelers circulating through who sought shelter at the inn, but I felt a knot growing the pit of belly at his somber countenance. Even in the distance, his solemn eyes told all I needed to understand what had transpired. The mission had gone amiss, that I knew, obviously the reason for Connor's delay, but it still didn't quite explain why Stephen was here and…where was Connor? The closer the pair came towards the porch, I sensed a fear and desperation radiating from him and as I focused my attentions on the person strewn atop the mare, I felt my heart stop at the sight. Before the scream left my chords, I was down the stairs and running towards the horse as fast I could, ignoring the icy pang of the downpour drenching my clothes.

"**CONNOR!**"

He lifted his head weakly, his orbs dull with exhaustion and fever, and tried to lift his upper body only to collapse against the back of his steed with a ragged cry of pain. He was soaking wet and shivering violently, his body shaking as chills and shudders passed through him. "Av-Aveline, I-I…" I placed my fingertips on his lips to silence him. No need him wasting his energy on speech. He would need every ounce to fight these inflictions currently threatening his life.

"Shhh…we need to get you inside." With Stephen's aid, we hauled him off the horse, dragging him up the steps and into the house, my heart sinking as I noted how pale Connor's visage was and how great blotches of crimson stained his side and upper thigh.

"What on Earth is going… oh, my…!" Achilles marched out of his room, his mouth compressing into a thin line as he examined Connor's condition, following us up the stairs as Stephen and I carried our precious cargo. Every bump tormented him, his face scrunched in distress as he bit his lip in futile efforts to mute any noises voicing his extreme discomfort, and we took great care not to jar him more than necessary. I cooed to him as a mother would a disgruntled child, hoping to soothe his agony with reassuring utterances.

"Almost there, amour."

We lay him on the bed gently, and I began removing weapons and pieces of clothing sodden with rainwater as Achilles gave Stephen further instructions.

"Stephen, go and fetch Dr. White. Take the mare and ride north until you come upon a small settlement. If anyone asks, tell them that I sent you and you must bring him as soon as possible. GO!"

He left in a flurry, his footsteps pounding down the stairs and out the door marking his departure. I returned my full attention to Connor, continuing to undress him. His moccasins, his leggings, and gear created a pile by our bed, unceremoniously dumped by the bedpost as I hastily disrobed him. The gauntlets concealing the hidden blades, the red sash sullied with his blood, and belt holding our trademark meet the floor next. My fingers undid the buttons to his soiled robes, and as I pushed them off his shoulders, I let out a choked sob of despair. The cut wasn't long, but it was deep, nearly through and through. Yet what concerned me the most was the rubicund and inflamed flesh around the opening, the lesion pungent of an infection.

"S-sorry. So s-sorry." His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. I immediately began panicking, every fiber of my being concentrated on keeping him awake while Stephen fetched Dr. White.

"No, Connor. Stay awake! That's right. Look at me!" I grabbed his face with both hands, shaking him slightly when he didn't respond, his skin hot and clammy against my palm as he peered up at me with orbs bleary from pain and the fever ravaging his body. His next words were sluggish but spoken with purpose, his breathing labored as he fought against the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Ambush…Templars…Smith…Traitor…"

* * *

**A:N/ Okay, so I have a feeling a few of you are a little upset after reading and so I'll take the time to explain some things now.**

**Now Connor was warned by both Achilles and Aveline so it's his fault he's in the predicament he's in now.**

**Ponder the words Connor says to Aveline. Remember the name Allan Smith for reference because you'll see it again.**

**With the Aveline's memories, I was trying a different technique. She only recalls such memories at certain times, usually spurred by something that reminds her of the event. (sight, smell, taste, etc.) Let me know if you guys like that.**

**Gonna get this out of the way, Connor's seriously injured but not dead. There'd be no purpose to killing him other than me just being mean, so you can breathe easier now, those of you who I thought I'd kill him off.**

**Hardest thing to write was the interaction with the Homesteaders. Aveline's only known them for a little over a year, so i wanted a mix between friendly and distant, as she's still bonding with them. Some faster than others.**

**I will continue to use the time and location formats. It's much easier to keep track of all the events and it'll help when I beginning to merge Connor's story line with mine own.**

**Oh, one more thing. I redid the beginning chapter so the first paragraph reads like a journal entry. Fits betters in my opinion.**

**So... please review, favorite, follow, whatever's your thing. Let me know what you y'all think so far. Until next time...**


	4. Pres de la mort

_I do not own Assassin's Creed or any or its characters. Only the ones I create._

**Finally it's here. Please forgive any mistakes made. I proofread it several times but even they I miss things. This is full of angst and feels. I warned you all in the last one and I've yet to scratch the surface with this. Again I apologize for any delays and hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for all your support and showing your love for this story. See author's notes below for more below. And now to the chapter!**

* * *

**Davenport Manor**

**May 4, 1779**

**Mid-morning**

Blood. So much blood.

My mind failed to comprehend how one person could lose so much. I wondered to myself how he could possibly live after such trauma.

_Let him live, please._

I'd never been so terrified for him in my entire life.

_Please, don't take him from me._

Oh, he was so weak. But he continued to fight for every harsh breath, his will to live empowered by the knowledge of his unborn child.

I stayed by his side as Dr. White began, offering my assistance where I could.

"Aveline, use this. It'll help with the fever." I dabbed gently with the cool cloth offered to me, half lidded eyes watching my movements intently, whispering praise to him when he moaned softly as Dr. White examined the wound in his side before moving to his thigh. "We'll need to begin soon. He's lost a lot of blood." He fixed with a look of questioning concern, lips pressed grimly into a thin line.

"Do what you need to save him." With a nod, he rolled his sleeves up his elbows and began sterilizing his equipment. I helped cleanse his wounds, whispering soft apologies when I brushed against tender flesh and he whimpered in pain. I wiped his face and chest with the rag resting in bowl with Dr. White's tools, his skin searing hot the touch and considerably ashen. I felt the muscles beneath my hand tense in apprehension as Dr. White approached with a scalpel, cheerless expression marring his countenance.

"Alright, let us begin."

Connor's hand clutched the sheets of our bed as Dr. White began prodding with the think but sharp blade, cutting away at and removing the inflamed and infected tissue, his grunts and groans increasing in frequency and volume as he continued. "Keep him still" and I vaguely acknowledged the two other presences as they moved toward the bed. My tiny hands held one large, rough hand tightly and I cooed soft gentle words to him as he screamed in agony, writhing and twisting within the linen sheet in an effort to escape the pain.

"Hold him still!" Dr. White's voice held a sense of urgency and slight alarm despite his stoic demeanor, and he withdrew the tool a fraction of an inch to avoid further damage before returning to his work. Stephane pinned his legs to the mattress with great difficulty, grunting with the effort as Connor kicked at him, and Achilles was opposite of me, restraining him with a strength that surprised me. With a heavy sigh, Dr. White removed the knife, returning it to the bowl before he placed his hands on either side of the gash. "Brace yourselves." It was the only warning we received as he pushed down firmly, sickly yellowish pus oozing from the edges and he reached with for the rag to clean it away. Connor's eyes shot open and his back arched high off the mattress, shouting expletives in English and his native tongue as he struggled against the hands keeping him place, roaring in anguish as Dr. White repeated the motion again. They flickered across the room before they locked with mine, tears streaming down his face and sweat beading along his forehead. They begged for some sort of respite.

_Make it stop_. _Make it end._

"I'm sorry, amour."

I witnessed desperation and sorrow in brown orbs rimmed with red before they rolled into the back of his head as Dr. White squeezed again, an cry far more harrowing than the others bursting from his lungs before he fainted, limp in our arms and thankfully incognizant. I blinked away tears, concentrating on the task at hand as Dr. White stitched the wound closed and dressed it properly. I watched how my husband's chest rose and fell rapidly, almost erratically, and I pressed a palm over his heart, the pulse noticeably weaker beneath my fingertips.

_I don't want to lose him, Father. Please._

Trousers removed and Dr. White quickly cleaned, stitched, and bandaged the thin laceration on Connor's thigh, respectfully covering his nudity with a sheet as he finished. He checked Connor's vitals, his brown creased downward and lips pursed into a frown when he felt his forehead. "I'll return later in the day. He has a high fever and will need to be monitored until it breaks. If anything changes, come get me, understood?"

I nodded. "Oui, doctor."

He smiled wearily, beginning to pack away his medical equipment before washing away the blood and grime covering his hands. "Achilles, if I could see you downstairs before I leave?"

"Of course." I heard Achilles's cane tapping the wooden floor and Dr. White's soft tread against the oak before the door was shut gently. I sensed another presence in the room and found Stephane in the far corner, leaning against the wall, despondent with worry and fear.

"You should rest." He spoke quietly, melancholic.

"I could say the same for you. Go, I'll watch over him."

"Madame, in your condition…" I narrowed my eyes, a dangerous glint forming in hazel orbs that dared him to finish that sentence. He didn't.

_Smart man. _

I huffed in indignation. "Nothing can or _will_ impair me from watching over _my husband_. You took care of him earlier. It's my turn now."

He hesitated, torn between a restful sleep beckoning him and the obligation he felt towards his mentor.

"Go to bed. That's an order, Stephane." He smirked, some of his boyish charm reappearing for a moment before he sobered.

"I'll be back in an hour." He promised through a huge yawn.

"Of course. Guest bedroom is next door. Fais de beaux rêves, mon ami. "

"Merci, madame. Adieu."

"Adieu." With a soft click of the door, he exited the room and I sighed heavily, silent tears etching salty trails down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my dress.

_Be strong. You must be strong for him. He needs you now._

A strange sound between a hiccup and a sob escaped my lips and Connor stirred, mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath, reaching for me.

I smiled warmly despite the ache in my heart, taking his hand and reclining next to him on our bed.

"Calme, mon amour. Vous obtiendrez de meilleurs. Allez dormir."

I kissed him on his forehead and snuggled as close to his body as my belly would allow, head propped up in my hand and content to observe him whilst he slept.

"Je t'aime." He muttered again and I knew that somehow he'd heard me and understood what I'd said.

Slumber visited him briefly throughout the morning and I observed with the concern of a wife and mother how his features contorted into an ugly grimace, how his hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets of our bed, hearing snatches of what he mumbled in English and his mother tongue. Visions of the past birthed by the fever tortured him in his sleep and I felt helpless once more, a spectator to his torment. Several times, he cried out in distress, for his mother, for me, and my heart constricted at the heart-wrenching sounds, at the amount of sadness and despair in each mournful howl. Orbs delirious with malaise fluttered open occasionally, his gaze unfocused and dazed as eyes flitted over the room before closing again. I smoothed his hair back from his face, threading my fingers through the damp, sweaty strands and he quieted almost immediately, his body relaxing beneath my touch. His whimpering ceased, his erratic breathing began to calm, and as my face beamed in relief, I began singing the opening strains to a lullaby my papa sang to me as a little girl.

_Dodo, l'enfant do, L'enfant dormira bien vite_

_Dodo, l'enfant do, L'enfant dormira bientôt._

* * *

**May 4, 1779**

**Late Afternoon**

Sleep was far from my mind as I watched over Connor's prone form spread out in our bed. I continued to stroke his dark mane, content on running my hand through the silky but unruly locks, and he dozed in a relatively peaceful slumber, the worst of the storm passed. His fever had finally broken earlier in the day and I pressed a kiss to his forehead, the skin clammy but thankfully cool. I rarely left his side, loathed for him to wake up and find someone else in my place, the only occurrences being when I needed to relieve myself or at Dr. White's insistence that I consume something to settle my stomach. Even then, I forced Stephane to gather and prepare my meals and he was all too happy to oblige me, delivering each one with a smile and an inquiry on Connor's condition.

_"Better". I remarked. "He's weak but the worst is over. He rests easy now."_

_Stephane grinned boyishly and patted my shoulder, gently squeezing in assurance._

_"Ah, oui. Never fear, madame. He's a hard bâtard. He'll pull through."_

_I smiled in return. "I'm his wife. I'm supposed to worry over him."_

_"Oui, oui. Good thing too. We need someone look out for him. Keep him company."_

_I met his eyes, sensing the warmth and sincerity in brown, before returning my gaze to my husband._

_"I'm that and more, Stephane. Thank you for bringing him back to me."_

_He shook his head swiftly, his lips pursing into a thoughtful frown._

_"Non non, madame. I only acted as what a true friend and brother would. Connor would do the same if our position were reversed." _

_"Either way, I appreciate it. Your actions saved his life. We are forever in your debt."_

_"Merci, madame. But that won't be necessary. Connor's done more for me then I could ever repay. To serve under him is one of the greatest honors I've ever held. Even when he's a pain in the arse some days."_

_He grinned broadly and I smirked at his teasing of Connor, knowing fully that he wasn't the easiest person to get along with._

_"Well, I shall leave you be. I'll return in an hour, oui?"_

_"Oui. Merci, monsieur."_

_He bowed gracefully in a show of splendor and I giggled softly before he exited, the door closing with a soft click, left alone in the silence with my thoughts for company. _

That was nearly two hours ago and Stephane had yet to make an appearance. I wondered what was delaying him. Connor stirred beside me with a whine, shifting closer to me as his hand blindly reached for a piece of me. I gladly gave him my free hand and he stilled, what I'd call a mix between a purr and groan of contentment leaving his throat. He still slumbered, albeit deeper than before, and I wondered absent-mindedly when he would awaken.

_Soon. Hopefully soon._

Exhaustion had begun to take its toll, my body fatigued from lack of rest and mind frazzled with worry over Connor. I rubbed at my eyes sleepily, petulantly yawning as I fully stretched, arms high above my head and back arched as muscles slowly began to relax.

A knock on the bedroom door alerted me to our visitor. "Come in."

Achilles hobbled in, a small smile on his aged features as he moved to sit on the bed beside me, observing his ward with paternal anxiety.

"How is he?"

I sighed thoughtfully. "Better since the fever broke. He accepts the broth we give him and drinks the water offered him. Dr. White visited early. He assures me Connor will be just fine."

"He's very resilient. He'll pull through. I have no doubt."

"Yes. I still worry though."

He huffed in mild amusement. "Well you are his wife. I expect no less."

"I feel so helpless. I can hardly bear to watch him suffer like this."

"I know exactly how you feel, my dear." His words were cryptic, carrying the burden of untold suffering and torment of another time.

He read the query in my eyes and exhaled loudly beneath his breath, rising from the bed and heading towards the door, ajar.

"A story for another day. Try to feed him more. If he will accept it, give it to him. I'll return shortly."

I nodded and as he departed, my stomach growled nosily, voicing its complaint of starvation. My cheeks burned with mortification and Achilles simply smirked, a twinkle of mirth in amber.

"Perhaps I'll bring something for you as well, yes?"

"Thank you." The familiar click of the oak door closing echoed in my mind long after he left.

* * *

_"__Aveline." He purred into my ear, tongue sliding along to outer to rest on the lobe, exerting a gentle pressure with his teeth on the delicate skin._

_"Connor. You frightened me." I gasped into his neck, the fingers of one hand firmly entwined in ebony lock free from its customary tie while the other rested on the small of his back. His arms were wrapped about my waist, pulling me closer to him as his lips brushed mine._

_"Forgive me. I never meant for any of this to happen." I moaned softly as one large palm swept down my side languidly in a sweet, sensual caress to rest on the curve of my bottom, gripping the flesh gently._

_"Please don't leave me." I buried my face into his chest, eyes squeezed shut to prevent pointless tears from flowing once more and I felt chapped, smooth lips pressed to my forehead._

_"Never. You have my word." He was a phantom, a figment of my imagination. But it provided the greatest comfort to me, a woman desperate of reassurance when surrounded by fear and doubt._

_"Kiss me." He indulged my command, lips covering mine and tongue sweeping in to brush against mine as I parted my lips to allow him further access. I groaned softly, a subtle twitch of his hips against mine disclosing the evidence of his arousal, and I tilted my head to side as his mouth moved over my jaw and down my throat, biting the sensitive cord briefly before placing tiny kisses along my clavicle._

_I arched against him, realizing belatedly that I was no longer with child. My brow furrowed in bemusement and he smirked knowingly, pressing a finger to my lips to silence any further questions. He pushed me backwards until I felt the back of my knees connect with the mattress and he eased me on to my back gently. His eyes raked over my form, love and lust mixing and mashing in chocolate eyes darkened with desire. I glanced down, pleasantly surprised to find us naked and scooted further back onto the bed. He crawled towards me, settling his hips comfortably between my thighs with his weight supported on elbows on either side of my head. His swollen sex rested against mine and as I arched my hips up to meet his, desperate for some friction, he pushed forward, entering me in one smooth motion. I gasped in pleasure, tossing my head back against the bed whilst he bit down on his bottom lip to suppress a groan as he began to move with confident, firm strokes. My eyes fell shut of their own accord. God, he felt heavenly, filling me to the brim repeatedly as he withdrew and reentered, his tempo increasing as our passions rose. I clung to him, nails digging into the heated skin of his back and legs wound around his waist, and I felt calloused fingers roaming over my skin, cupping a breast and teasing the hardened peak before moving lower. Questing digits parted me and I moaned loudly in pleasurably surprise as he fondled the nub, leaning low to whisper in my ear._

_"I love you."_

_"I love…youaaaaahhhhhh!" It was too much. I sensed myself nearing completion, begging and pleading with my body for him to finish._

_"Connor, please." So close. Just a little more!_

_I shattered underneath his ministrations with a scream, his name falling from lips as I arched towards him, fingernails embedded deep in his shoulder and I rode out the waves of my euphoric release. I felt him tense above me, a soft grunt leaving him and I prepared to receive his seed, anticipating the rush of warm liquid into me as I continued to pulse around him. But it never came._

_Something wet land on my stomach and I frowned in confusion._

_Was he crying? If so, why?_

_I looked up, a wordless scream on my lips at the horrific scene before me. Blood dripped from blade protruding from Connor's chest, his orbs blank and wide in disbelief and pain. His mouth open to form to words but released only an agonizing cry as the knife was swiftly pulled out, lifeblood gushing from the wound. I pressed my hands against it in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, tears springing to my eyes as his life slowly ebbed from his body._

_"No, please."_

_"Forgive me." He collapsed on atop of me, crimson coating and clinging to my skin. His breathing slowed as blood continue to flow, the pulse weaker with each passing second until his heart ceased to beat and I no longer heard his soft exhale._

_"Connor? No, Connor! Wake up! Please! Don't do this! Please, amour! Wake up! Please!" I beseeched feverishly but was only meet with silence and empty stare devoid of life._

_"Please…" I simply laid there, crying uncontrollably and cradling him to me, completely inconsolable._

_I heard laughter, felt another presence in the room with me and I was suddenly on edge._

_A man appeared beside the bed, holding a bloodied dagger in one hand and a flintlock pistol in the other. A cruel malevolent smirk curved to corner of thin lips upwards. Icy blue eyes full of malice looked down on me in contempt._

_I snarled in grievous animalistic rage. He was the one responsible for this._

_"I will kill you!"_

_He grinned broadly, leveling the pistol with my head coolly before cocking the weapon._

_"You can try, assassin."_

_He pulled the trigger. _

A sudden burst of explosive pain in my skull and I was surrounded by darkness falling endlessly through the void, screaming as I tumbled to certain death. Hands tugged on me and I fought ruthlessly. I refused to die here.

"Aveline!" The hazy still surrounded my mind but I heard the distinct echo of my name. My eyes popped open wide and I leapt into a defensive stance, ready to protect my family at all costs. Achilles stumbled backwards, nearly falling over if Dr. White hadn't of caught him. Stephane cursed beneath his breath and moved towards me to restraint me. I glanced around wildly, searching for the strange man, my breathing heavy and fitful. Stephane approached with hands raised in amity, free of a weapon, and placed both palms on my shoulders, forcing me to sit back down.

I whimpered pitifully. "He killed him. He killed us."

"Shhh, it's alright. You're safe here."

I shook my head, panic welling up within my chest. I needed to see Connor. Make sure he was safe.

Stephane pulled me into an embrace, one hand stroking my curly mane soothingly, and I tried to break free. His grip tightened around me.

"Non non, madame. He is fine. Calm down. Everything's alright."

I felt the tears prickling at the back of my eyes, angrily wiping them when they began to spill over the lids and down my face. The walls I'd built this morning to contain all my emotions were swiftly coming down, much to my dismay. I choked on a sob, biting down hard on my lip in an effort not to cry.

"Let it all out. Don't hold it in." He coaxed tenderly.

With a surrendering cry, I pressed my face into his chest, my face hidden as I wept without abandon into his clothes. Each wail wracked my frame with violent tremors, my breath shuddering in and out and if I spoke, I was positive it was incomprehensible. I cried for what seemed like hours and Stephane offered no inane advice or meaningless words of comfort. He merely held me, not even a single complaint uttered as I stained his vest with snot. I was thoroughly exhausted, mind and body, and when I finally grew weary with no tears left to shed, Stephane guided me to lay next to Connor, staying by my side and holding my hand. The last thing I remembered was the gentle squeeze of his hand before I drifted off into a troubled sleep.

* * *

**A/N: I warned you. Don't see I didn't. Anyways Aveline's having a really hard time with all this. She was a young girl when she lost her papa and her mentor committed suicide before her eyes. She's scared emotionally and I don't believe she's ever developed a way to deal with them in a healthy manner. Connor's struggling right now but he won't die. I promise I won't kill him off, at least in this one. I'm debating on whether I should flesh out Connor's recovery or show snippets of it instead. Let me know in the comments what you would like to see. The man in Aveline's dream gone to hell is our little snake, Allan Smith. You'll here more about him next chapter along with what exactly transpired. Lastly, the title is French for Near Death. Please favorite and review and I will hopefully have the next one out soon. Until next time...**

**Credit for the song**

** . . . . . .2/**


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